Today was another scorcher, and other than a road trip with my brother to my parent’s homestead, I stayed in the cool house and let my computer entertain me. As usual, I spent most of the day researching and writing on my newest book, so the day went fast.
If felt strange walking through my parents’ home knowing neither of them wouldn’t greet me. Everything was clean and neat, just the way my Dad had left it. Both he and my mother were neat freaks, and their organization still amazes me. You could eat a meal off his basement work bench, and my mother still had most of the ingredients in the cupboards to make a meal in a moment’s notice. The drawers are full of things that must find new homes and where it all will end up is still a mystery. There’s not a lot that I want, but I did put my name on a chair, a small dresser, three of my grandma’s china cups, and a picture I painted for my mother as a Mother’s Day gift a couple of years ago.
I wasn’t melancholy about the trip because by now it is just a house. Yes, some memories linger, but I haven’t lived there since I was 18, so I have little emotional attachment to the surroundings. I think that’s a good thing. I hope my children feel the same when they have to dispose of the materialism I leave behind, but I also hope they do have some attachment for a few of the things I’ve collected. Sometimes I don’t think either of them have a sentimental bone in their body, and it’s all my fault. I raised my girls to be independent and the rough edge of that kind of upbringing is to not get attached to anything.
The following months will be full of new adventures as we four children absorb or discard my parent’s belongings. I’m sure this won’t be the last time I tell you about the emotions that may or may not hit me. It’s been my experience emotional things come out at totally unrelated times.